Doppelganger
by gaffer42
Summary: Followup to McKay and Mrs Miller. The line between genius and insanity is thin. What would push him over? PS other spoilers too, for Tao of Rodney
1. Chapter 1

**DOPPELGANGER**

Disclaimer - don't own them, wish I did. This is written for fun and the enjoyment of my friends, and I make no money off it.

**Chapter 1**

She looked away for a second, hating herself for it, knowing it for the cowardice it was. But she'd seen him suffer all her life, from the slings and arrows of envious schoolmates, from physical attacks of bullies, professional attacks from peers.

"They'll never believe it." Her brother's voice was weak, determined, as clear as if he were next to her, the images on the screen as sharp as the best high definition image back on Earth.

"You keep thinking that," the other replied. "For all intents and purposes, I am you. Genetically, physically...not emotionally, I'm much more advanced than you emotionally, but I can fake that..." He wandered over and crouched down, reaching out and lifting her brother's chin. "I can step in, make your life my own, the way it should be."

"You've suffered a terrible loss, Rod." The other stood and turned away, but Rodney kept talking. "I can't even imagine what it would do to me to lose everyone."

She glanced up at Sheppard at that, who met her eyes. She looked around the room, at Zelenka who was working with the rest of the science team to trace the origin of the image, and at the others who had come to mean so much to Rodney and, by extension, to her.

Her gaze returned to Sheppard. She knew he prided himself on his control, and even now, watching, he maintained an appearance of detached interest - but she could feel the tension in him, and see the muscles jumping along his stiff jaw. He was holding himself back by sheer will, she realized, eyes fixed on his friend as if he could give him strength through the viewscreen. Beside him, Ronan stood, glowering like a storm over water. Teyla stood easily, apparently relaxed, but her eyes were glistening.

They loved him, she realized, and they were suffering too, right along with her brother. She wanted to hug them all and comfort them, for one of the myriad lessons that being a mother had taught was that comforting the ones you loved brought comfort to oneself as well. She shook her head slightly, felt Sheppard's hand on her shoulder and realized that Ronan and Teyla had moved closer.

It wasn't a hug, but it would do.

Rod was talking again, talking with the flat assurance that differed from her brother's animation so enormously. It made her wonder that he thought he could mimic Rodney's mannerisms well enough to fool those closest to him. He'd made it clear, several times in the past hour or so, that he would get as much information from Rodney as he could before he bled out, and then take his place as Rodney McKay, arranging for someone to find poor, damaged 'Rod' dead, wrists slit, somewhere out on a remote pier.

And she'd felt sorry for him, at first. Rod had created a bridge of his own, set his ZPM to explode and send the pulse to destroy it once he'd passed, and he'd harboured no hope, this time, that it was not a one-way trip.

Weir hadn't known that, though, only recognized that the bridge was active, and their universe could again be in danger, and she'd dispatched Sheppard to pick her up.

Sheppard had awakened her in the middle of the night. There had been a cloaked jumper sitting on her front lawn, and less than two hours later she was back on Atlantis.

The banging at their door had mimicked her dreams. She'd been worried about Rodney ever since her return to earth. Officers on the doorstep were never good, but in her nightmares she woke and answered the door to a grieving Sheppard…and when she woke, those nights, she seldom slept again, instead writing long, emotional emails to her brother that she deleted by light of day. Her expression, when she finally nerved herself to open the door, must have been easy to read, for Sheppard had gaped a moment, before rapidly assuring her that "McKay's fine, Jeannie, but we need your knowledge. The bridge is open again."

And then, by the time they'd gotten back, the ZPM in the other universe had fired, the bridge was down, that crisis was over. Weir had suggested she stay for a day or so, promising to let Caleb know everything was fine.

But there was an extra McKay in their universe, now. For it was, indeed, Rod, 'their' Rod, broken and bereft, telling a tale of unimaginable loss. The Wraith drones getting through the gate, other hives with the co-ordinates for Earth, battling the Ori for domination of a small blue planet. 'We lost contact a month ago, but I know Jeannie and her family were killed.'

She should have twigged then, she realized, the way he looked at her, not with affection, but with calculation. The others had fallen in defense of the gate, he said, Sheppard sucked dry while Rod had watched, hidden, helpless...

Her brother groaned and she looked up. Rod was stepping back, Rodney curling over, Rod saying something about getting his attention.

"Bastard hit him," Ronan growled.

"Find him, Radek," Sheppard said tightly.

"Working." She knew how deeply Radek was concentrating by that one word. Zelenka hadn't even muttered in his own language, absorbed in tracking the signal that had made the scene appear abruptly on the screen earlier that morning in the gate control room. No one knew how it had been triggered, where it originated, and they hadn't even considered the thought that it might not be a live feed…

The scarlet puddle behind and beneath the chair was growing. Rodney sat, tied carefully so ligature marks wouldn't be evident, and he'd been dressed by Rod in his own usual black, Rod wearing Rodney's uniform awkwardly. The veins had just been nicked, Rod had said, so it would give them time for a good long chat, but death by blood loss was preceded by other physical issues - cold, trouble concentrating…

Sheppard's hand left her shoulder and she looked up as he scrubbed his hand across his chin. "Goddamnit!" he swore, spinning to the console again. "Zelenka, there has to be a faster way!"

To his credit, Zelenka did not snap back. "Wherever they are, they are no longer traceable by the city sensors. They must be in a damaged section. I am working through the channels, but it is slow."

Sheppard's face tightened, and he looked at the screen again. "What about the sensors in the jumpers? Can we broaden the footprint? We could mow the lawn over the outer piers, where we know the sensors are down. If we got them all up and running, we could be ready in a few minutes, Elizabeth…"

"He hears the jumpers, he'll kill Rodney," Ronon said flatly.

"So we fly high enough that he can't hear!"

"Could those sensor things pick him up then?"

Sheppard rounded on the taller man, furious. "Then you come up with something!"

Zelenka intervened as Ronon began to retort. "Colonel, if you cloak the jumper, is not the sound muted too?" He shook Sheppard's arm, demanding attention. The glare left Ronon and rested on him, but it took only a second for it to become considering.

"Yeah. It cuts down the accuracy, though, but it would be better than what we have now."

There was a brief pause, and she realized they were all waiting for the go-ahead from their leader, from Weir, who was nodding.

"Do it." She said it tightly, and there were people speaking all at once, suddenly. And she was on the outside, listening as a well-oiled machine of which she was no part (and that hurt, in some obscure way, she was surprised to note) sprang into action, orders she found confusing spoken to people she didn't know.

Being on the outside was new to her.

But staring at the image of her brother and his doppelganger on the screen, she took comfort in knowing the people that would try to save him truly cared about him, and it was all he'd ever really wanted in life, she knew, even though he tried to conceal that need beneath an exterior that was beyond crusty and irritating. These people had taken the time to see through it.

Almost as if her mind was being read, Teyla touched her arm gently. "Jeannie?"

She looked around. The room had half-emptied, scientists running for jumpers and every pilot scrambled. She knew John was the head pilot, but he was still there, as was Ronon, and they were watching with - was that worry? For her?

"We will find him, Jeannie." Ronon's voice was deep and resonant, and pleasant to listen to, and when he made a statement like that it was almost impossible not to believe him.

John just looked at her, and again she felt his pain because it mirrored her own. He had shared a life here with Rodney, as she had with him in the formative years. They were brothers, under the skin, and he was as scared as she for exactly the same reason - but he could do something about it. She managed a shaky smile, and a nod, and they were gone.

**Chapter 2**

Weir watched them go, and then stepped up beside her, shoulder to shoulder, and Zelenka worked with his team behind them. Together they watched the screen as Rodney began to speak.

Perhaps to buy time, perhaps because he could see no way out, her brother straightened slightly, painfully.

"Did you know I almost ascended a while ago?"

Rod snorted disbelief. "You, reach a higher plane of existence?"

"Well, I had a little help. There was a machine down in one of the formerly flooded sections, and it was kind of a genetic modifier…it was a bit scary, I gotta say. My mind evolved, like that Twilight Zone about the guy with six fingers? Did you have Twilight Zone over there?"

Rod nodded slightly. "Go on."

"Anyway, I invented a new math and I increased the ZPM's efficiency, and a lot of other stuff. But you know the most important thing? I learned I had friends who loved me. They actually said it. Of course, they thought I was dying at the time, or on the verge of ascending, but no one took it back when I figured out how to reverse the process about six seconds before I died…"

On the screen, he paused to take a breath, and Jeannie turned stricken eyes to Weir, who nodded a bit apologetically.

"And that's why I know either I'll ascend or I'll die, but my friends will never buy you as me. To love someone you have to know them, and they don't know you, my friend, no matter how much I tell you or how many reports you read. They will know it's not me. You won't have my life. You could have had a great life of your own, but you wanted mine, and they won't let you live it, especially if they find out you've killed me."

Rod seemed unimpressed. "Go on," he said. "This is all information I need."

"D'you know who helped me figure out how to bring my brain activity down so I could even hope to ascend? John. He spent six months in a time dilation field, with a group of Ancients trying to get there on their own, and for a long time I think he thought we'd abandoned him. He learned to meditate - or at least, he learned enough to help me."

"See, now, that never happened for us," Rod said. "This is good stuff. Do you have a Kolya?"

She listened as Rodney told of their encounters with the race called the Genii, and shuddered as he described being cut by the head of the invasion force during the storm, stepping in front of the gun, the final, desperate effort to save the city. Then he spoke of being stuck in a puddlejumper while his friend fought for life with a bug on his neck…

"Didn't even know we were all friends till then," he said, his words coming more slowly. He was shivering, too, the cold of the blood loss taking hold. "And Ford was there, not Ronon. I wonder what happened to Ford. We saw him later, he wouldn't give me the enzyme, he gave the others the enzyme but not me and then I took it, and it was like being a god, but I almost overdosed…"

His head dropped down, chin to chest, and she stopped breathing until Rod moved forward and peered into her brother's face. "Nope, you're good for a bit yet," he said, and slapped him lightly. "Come on. Tell me more. Tell me…tell me about that personal shield. You said it was drained?"

"Energy sucking cloud creature. First time I ever found myself in the position where I could save the day. I always wanted to save the day, you know?" He looked up, face open and childish, and she could see the boy who showed her the wonders of a bumblebee's flight 'scientists say that they shouldn't be able to fly, Jeannie, but they can!' when they were still young.

"And I did - The cloud wouldn't go through, the MALP died, and I walked into it with the shield. I didn't know if I'd live or not, and I threw the generator into the wormhole and it followed, and I passed out. And when I woke up I saw John and Elizabeth, and I…don't think I'd ever been so happy. And it's been that way since, scary and amazing, and terrible and wonderful." He paused. "And if you do take my place, be good to them? Promise you'll be good to them?"

Rod nodded. "That's the only reason I'm doing this, Rodney. I'm the better version of Rodney McKay. I can take the best care of them this time. I won't let anything happen, I promise you."

They saw him approach again, and Jeannie stiffened, but this time he just touched her brother's neck.

"Not long now, Rodney," he said almost kindly. "Just rest now. Just go to sleep."

"Update." Weir spoke briskly into her com, only her eyes betraying any emotion.

"Thirty per cent of the outlying piers are covered. Proceeding." It wasn't John, and she was surprised.

Weir raised an eyebrow. "Rapidly, please, the situation is degenerating."

And then there was just the quiet on the screen, and the rapid keystrikes as Radek worked to find the source. Weir's jaw was firm, but her eyes were blazing, anger and fear and frustration, and Jeannie suspected she had much the same expression. Time dragged, there was no report for minutes...

And then John Sheppard was there, stepping into the image. He had his hands in his pockets, trying for casual. Rod stood quickly, moving away from the door, towards Rodney, slipping the knife into his sleeve.

"Elizabeth..." Jeannie said.

"I saw." She tapped her com. "John, the knife is in his left sleeve."

He didn't respond, gave no sign of hearing, but continued the steady pace.

"John, I'm glad you're here." Rod was improvising, "He attacked me, I had to tie him. He cut himself. Look, he's bleeding..." He looked down towards the floor but Sheppard didn't take the bait, just kept moving towards him.

"Rod, it's over," he said quietly. "Let us help Rodney. Just back off, you can still have a good life in this universe. Let us help him and you."

For an instant, it seemed as if Rod was going to comply, before something dark crossed his face and he darted back, dropping to one knee behind the chair with an arm wrapped around Rodney's neck, holding the knife. The threat was unmistakable.

"Back off." he said flatly. " And tell Ronon if he stuns me the charge will likely kill your Rodney."

Sheppard made eye contact with someone they couldn't see, and jerked his head.

"So, now what?"

"We wait," Rod replied. "When Rodney's dead, you'll need me to take his place." A smile spread over his face, all the more alarming for its normality, as if he wasn't engaged in murder. "Come on, it'll be fun! I'm easier to get along with and everything. And I'm just as smart."

Sheppard shifted, and Rod moved the knife a bit closer to Rodney's neck. "Ah, ah." he said. " Don't forget, I know how you think." He grinned. "Come on, it's not like you could shoot me, huh? Not Rodney. Not Meredith Rodney McKay. Oh, speaking of which, take your hands out of your pockets."

As he moved to so, they saw a brief flurry of activity to one side. So did Rod, and instinctively he swung towards it. It moved him far enough out from behind the chair that Sheppard had one opportunity, and he took it, pulling his hand free and sighting and firing his weapon in one smooth, unconflicted motion.

The impact drove Rod away from his hostage, and Ronon's gun spat, dropping the insane man to the floor. Gripping his gun tightly, John advanced cautiously, kicking the knife away and reaching down to feel the pulse.

He didn't comment aloud, but a flash of obscure pain crossed his face, and Jeannie knew that the wreck of the brilliant man Rod had been was gone.

Sheppard yelled "Clear!" and turned his back on the body, dismissing it, moving to Rodney. He carefully undid the bindings.

"John?" He didn't answer Weir's query right away, helping Carson with the quick bandaging, then they both stood back as Ronon stepped in and lifted her brother in his arms with as much effort as she used when lifting Madison.

"John?" Weir asked again.

He looked up at the monitor. "He's still alive. We're heading back." Then he waved his hand and the monitor went dark, and Elizabeth sagged against the panel slightly, eyes closed in relief. She opened them to see Jeannie staring at her, and nodded to herself. "Lieutenant," she beckoned a young soldier standing nearby, "please show Mrs. Miller to the infirmary waiting area. I'll be down myself as soon as I can," she added.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 3**

She beat them there by a few moments, saw the gurney rush by with Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon trailing. They were stopped at the door and gently but firmly pointed to the waiting area. Sheppard saw her and worked up a grin, but it didn't last. She couldn't find anything to say as they entered and sat, so she mirrored their actions, recognizing that it was no longer in their hands.

The silence stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable, particularly, just quiet. She noticed the blood on Ronon's knees, and Sheppard's, and knew it was her brother's. But he was still alive, and she knew...

"He's stubborn." She hadn't meant to say it aloud.

"He is that." Sheppard nodded agreement, and both Teyla and Ronon smiled a bit.

And it was quiet again, until Elizabeth arrived.

"No news." Sheppard said it before she even asked, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement before moving to an empty chair.

"Report," she said.

"Eight jumpers flying a straight sweep pattern. Radek had eliminated four piers already, so we covered the last ones. We flew as low as we dared; Teyla and Sampson picked them up. We landed a half-klick away and entered the city. I think you saw the rest." He slouched in his chair, and you didn't need to know the man well to see the worry.

"Succinct. Did you ever figure out how the image came to be? If the sensors were out, why was a camera working? And are there cameras everywhere?"

It was a problem, Jeannie recognized, and Weir had presented it now partly because she needed to know, but her timing was also to provide a needed distraction, and her already high estimation of the woman went up again.

"It looked like part of the pattern on the wall, but when you got close you could tell." He stood, wandering the room, and pointed. "There - there's another one. Hang on."

He stared at it for a second, then tapped his com. "Charles, can you see us?" He listened a second, then waved at the camera, nodded to the others. "Good enough. No, no news yet." He tapped off, stepped back and turned away.

"I thought it on, is all. It responded like the lights. I guess, when Rodney was taken, he wished that someone could see what was happening."

"We need to investigate this, send people into all the areas we use regularly and find all the cameras," Elizabeth said. " We can decide what to do about them later, but we should know where they are."

"You turned it off again, right?" Ronon asked. "Hate the idea of someone watching us."

"Yeah. It's off."

The conversation died again, and Jeannie stood. "I need some air," she said abruptly, and left.

She knew John followed, but didn't feel like stopping. She remembered an open space nearby, an atrium, and headed for it as fast as she could without breaking into a run. She hadn't felt like this since being stuck in the Eatons Centre in the middle of a Boxing Day rush, the deep need to have space around her, a requirement for the absence of people. Not claustrophobia, not exactly.

She made for the exact centre of the space, where the colours of the stained glass roof sprawled over the mosaic in a planned pattern that she'd have appreciated at any other time. She stopped, wrapped her arms around herself, and stood with her head bowed, fighting the urge to cry. How close it was, genius and madness. Rod's losses had tipped him over. It had been her brother, and yet not, but even so he had been her friend at one time, and that loss was to be mourned.

And then her brother - he'd been so brave, so careful, and even when he'd realized his situation was hopeless his thoughts were for his friends, his family. She shivered suddenly. How he had changed, how this place had changed him, how these people had changed him.

"Jeannie?"

John's voice came from behind her but she didn't turn, knowing to see his concern would shatter her control.

"Yeah," she said, pleased at how steady her voice was. "Sorry. Just - needed a moment."

He came closer, and she knew if he touched her she'd lose it. He didn't, though, just waited patiently until she drew a deep breath and nerved herself to face him.

"Better?"

She nodded.

"Good."

He led her out and into a small hallway nearby, past a small line of people waiting outside a door. She recognized some of them and they nodded or smiled at her - she returned the wordless greetings. John led her to a bench in an alcove and sat. After a moment she followed suit.

"Beckett doesn't have much blood on hand," he said, carefully casual. "Those people are Rodney's type. Weir put out the call as we were bringing him back."

She nodded. It made sense. He seemed to have more to say, and she waited, but he was silent. Finally, she looked over at him.

It was written in his face, if he only knew, and she could read it because she knew it, knew the fear of loss that made it hard to breathe, to think. And she, who had been so afraid to be touched, reached out and wrapped her brother's best friend in a careful embrace. He was stiff, resistant for a few seconds, but finally he responded and hugged her back tightly. She released him a moment later and knew it had helped him as well. His tight expression was fractionally eased.

"He's tough," she repeated her earlier statement, wanting to say so much more, but not able to find the words. He nodded, quirked a half-smile at her and stood.

"OK to go back?" he asked.

She nodded.

OOOOO

No one commented on her precipitous departure. Teyla gave her a warm smile. Ronon opened an eye a slit, and then closed it.

"Doctor Weir had to return to the gateroom," Teyla mentioned, and John nodded.

They waited.

OOOOO

"Jeannie?" The hand on her shoulder was gentle and she roused, wondering for half a second that she'd dropped off. Then again, what was the time difference between Earth and Pegasus, it must be jet lag to end all jet lag...she was suddenly awake and staring into Carson Beckett's tired face.

"Carson?" Behind him the others waited patiently, but without tension, and he smiled at her.

"Rodney's responding well. If he keeps on this track, he'll be fine."

She looked at his friends and smiled back, and wasn't surprised to feel a couple of tears tracking down her cheek.

**Chapter 4**

Her brother lay, still too pale, in his bed, and his team were arranged around him in a pattern that spoke of practise. By silent consent, though, she was given the comfortable armchair near the head of the bed. It struck her that it was usually Sheppard's place, but he tossed some pillows off the bed behind her and sat there instead, with Teyla next to him, perching with an easy grace that Jeannie admired. Ronon planted himself on the far side, settling in, it seemed, for the duration.

"When he wakes, he'll be thirsty. If he can drink it, he can have it," Carson said, removing the most recently finished bottle of whole blood and replacing it. "I've got a couple of things to do, but I'll be by as often as I can. At any rate, call me when he comes around."

His words were met with nods, and Carson left, wrapping the tube around the bag as he went.

For a moment, it was awkward. Again, she felt on the outside, an intruder, as Ronon held up one hand and Sheppard threw a pillow over, knowing what was wanted before it was asked.

"Does this sort of thing happen often?" she asked, and winced at how 'small-talk at a party' it sounded.

"Your brother seems to attract…trouble." Teyla was trying to be diplomatic, but Sheppard just rolled his eyes. It wasn't entirely reassuring.

"He also has the best luck I've seen," Ronon added. "He made friends with a whale. Saved his life when the jumper crashed underwater."

Her concern must have shown. "He only got a bit hypothermic," he hastened to add.

"Not helping." Sheppard told him, throwing another pillow, only this time hitting his teammate on the shoulder.

"Um - he's right, Ronon. Not helping much at all. John, how many times has he been in here?" She tilted her head to see him, and Teyla seemed about to speak, but he whacked her none too gently on the knee.

"More times than we're comfortable with," he said finally. "Thing is, your brother gets - enthusiastic. We try to keep him out of too much trouble."

"It terrifies me, honestly," she said frankly. "But it helps knowing he's got you guys to look out for him."

"He also looks out for us," Teyla added. "He can be very calm under enormous pressure."

She laughed. "Right."

"Seriously." John agreed. "Though, maybe calm isn't the right word. Focused? Blinkered?"

"Now, that I can believe. I don't know if I ever told you about my eighth birthday party - Rodney was thirteen, and as you know, eight year old sisters are a thirteen year old's natural prey…" She looked around, and they were all listening, eager to know more. "My parents rented a bouncy castle, and Rodney decided to pressure test it. Anyway…"

OOOOO

They'd stopped talking a while ago and now sat, in companionable silence, waiting. Radek had dropped in with coffee about an hour earlier, and he and Sheppard had a conversation that made Jeannie re-evaluate John Sheppard - they were discussing a way to detect another bridge in the unlikely event another one would be created, and she understood that when the young Sheppard decided to go into the military, science had been the loser. It also gave her a reference for how the friendship between her brother and the pilot had originated - Sheppard was a puzzle, and Mer could never resist a puzzle.

She grinned to herself and leaned forward again, reached to pull the blanket up a bit. She looked at her brother's face, still pale, drained of colour, though Carson assured her that his blood count was out of danger. And he looked back, groggy but awake.

"Guys," she said quietly.

John slid off the bed and was next to her in an instant. She resisted the twinge of jealousy she felt when his was the face her brothers' eyes sought, but then his gaze moved to her, Teyla, Ronon. The relief on their faces told him what he needed, but she couldn't help it.

"You're going to be fine, Mer," she said, "but you may start to speak Czech. Radek gave you a pint."

"Seems like half the city got in on it, Rodney," John contributed. "You got a whole pile of pints. You're a regular United Nations." His drawl was calculated, and he didn't let his relief show.

Her brother frowned. "Rod."

"He didn't make it," Ronon said, and it was with a bit of regret.

Rodney shook his head. "Don't blame him," he whispered.

"No one does. He was no longer sane, Rodney," Teyla said comfortingly. "We are only glad that we found you."

That took a second to register, and he looked up, confused. "How..."

"The 'how' can wait, lad." It was Carson, coming from behind Ronon like a Chihuahua trailing a Doberman. He brandished another pint. "This is for you, and depending on how you behave it might well be the last you need. So be a good boy, and let your system recover, hmmm?" He slipped behind Teyla and changed the bag over. "Plenty of time for explanations later."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 5**

It had been a bit of a tussle, but she'd won first watch, a borrowed com with a short lesson, and strict instructions to call if anything arose. Radek had provided a laptop to while away the time, but she left it sitting on the side, leaned back and let her mind roam back over the years. There had been good times and bad, as with any family. Her mother had been bamboo to her father's gale, but the children had been in the middle - Mer had borne the brunt of the wind for not being into sports, not making friends easily, things her father was good at. Mer's abilities were more esoteric, and her father had not been a subtle man. She had, perhaps, a kinder view, not only because she'd been his favourite, but by being a parent herself she was learning what it was to hope for your children, to plan.

Her brother's face was ghostly on the pillow, in the odd light from the windows. She touched his hand - it was like ice. He'd been piled high with warmed blankets, but still shivered, and she held his fingers between her palms to warm them.

Ending up here, in another universe, wasn't all that much of a stretch - theoretical physics postulated odder things. What made her smile was how he'd done it - head of science of a multi-national endeavour, one of three leaders that made it run. He'd been forced to expand his horizons and he'd done so, admirably, but it wouldn't have worked if there hadn't been the precise mix of personalities. Without Sheppard, without Carson or Weir, without his team - and she'd never thought of Mer being a team player - none of the abilities he'd shown would have been developed. Leadership, bravery, the ability to have and to be a friend...

He was shivering again, hard, and she looked around for another blanket for a moment before a silly idea flashed in her mind.

For a long time, thunder had terrified her. She'd nerve herself to walk down the hall to the next room where, often as not, Mer would be awake, resigned to a set of cold five-year-old feet sliding under the covers. She'd stay with him, feeling safer, until the storm was over and then head back to her own bed.

She dropped the side of the bed carefully, and slid under the sheet, wrapping her arms around her brother and holding him close, letting her warmth warm him.

OOOOO

"Jeannie."

It was a woman's voice, and she lingered in a half-doze. Her brother lay quietly, no longer shivering, and Teyla - it was she - tapped her shoulder again, gently. "Jeannie?"

She sat up a bit and wormed out from under the covers, raising the bedside again.

"He was cold," she said, a bit embarrassed.

"It was a logical thing to do," Teyla agreed. "I would have considered it myself, if he were in a similar situation while I was watching him, but he would be - chagrined - if he woke with me in his bed. Terrans have very odd social customs."

"I guess we do, at that." She straightened her clothes, and then the covers, stretching. "So, it's the middle of the night, huh?"

"It is." Teyla sat on the bed opposite, again doing that smooth lotus thing. She watched the alien huntress (and didn't that sound fanboy) settle herself, and sat.

"Why do you do this, hanging out here? Carson said he'd be ok. On Earth we'd be way, way past visiting hours..."

"You are here."

"Yeah, but he's family."

Teyla smiled. "Exactly," she said, pleased. "We have each been in similar situations, and we know how much easier it is to endure a serious wound or illness with someone loved and trusted nearby each time we wake. Rodney has done this for all of us, at one time or another. It is a thing we do."

"I'm glad. You know, he thinks of you all the same way. He said so in a video he made before the first attack by the Wraith."

"We know he does." Again, that quiet smile, and she found herself liking this woman. She hadn't very many female friends, even with the playgroups the mothers she met were people to chat with, not to have serious discussions with. Not heart-to-heart types. This was as close as she'd gotten in ages, and she found herself reluctant to leave. Teyla regarded her, and seemed to feel the same, for she asked, "You have a child?" suddenly.

"I sure do. I have a photo in my wallet; sorry I don't have it here! She's four."

Teyla smiled. "Our family traditions are more - blended than Terrans. Children are raised by the village, but I have several who call me, 'Aunt'."

And as easily as that, they fell into a quiet conversation that expanded to cover far more than children, and cemented their friendship.

**Chapter 6**

"...tire more easily for a bit, but you'll be fine. And out of here in another day."

Jeannie shifted her bag to the other shoulder. She'd caught the tail end of the conversation as she approached, and Carson grinned at her, then made for his office, while Mer frowned.

"So you're going," he grumbled. "Leaving me to convalesce alone."

She didn't take offence. "Yup," she agreed cheerfully. "All alone, no friends to coddle you, bring you laptops, pudding cups..." She glanced at the night table and pretended shock. "What's this? Laptop. Pudding cup."

"Yeah, yeah, mock the invalid." He was really down about her leaving, she realized suddenly, and she put the bag down.

"Mer, you know you're welcome any time, and all your extended family here is welcome too. I'll even get an extra long bed for Ronon." She touched his shoulder, and he looked up, still almost pouting, looking for all the world like Madison denied a cookie. It touched her, and she sat.

"Listen, you can call on me anytime. Maybe I'll even send you some of the emails I write when I can't sleep." She took one hand, squeezed it, "I worry about you."

He looked defensive. "I'm trained, now, Sheppard saw to that, and Ronon and Teyla..."

"...would do anything to protect you, I know," she finished, and it wasn't what he'd meant to say, but he didn't argue.

"So don't worry." He said it like it was something he had control over, and he'd established the protocol for her level of concern. It made her smile. "What?"

"Nothing." She leaned forward and kissed him. "Come visit, soon, and bring your team. Madison will love Ronon's hair."

It made him return her smile, as she'd intended. "You just had that mental image, didn't you?"

He nodded, and she stood. "John is waiting for me in the gateroom." She hugged him. "Keep in touch, Mer. And try not to get into any more trouble."

OOOOO

It was like getting back into a routine after a holiday, but gradually she returned to the real world of ballet lessons, school, playgroups...and the nightmare had returned, as she knew it would.

She wrapped her housecoat around her and headed downstairs, grabbing a glass of soymilk from the fridge, resisting the temptation for something stronger. She booted up her computer and sat for a moment, staring at the white screen.

"Dear Mer. I remember promising I'd really send you the emails I write when I can't sleep, so I hope you're ready. I know you belong out there, and I'm proud of you, but I am so scared, too, knowing what you're up against - Part of me wants to just grab you and bring you home, though for you I get the feeling home is where you are right now. I feel like I'm getting to know you again, is all, and I really like you, as well as loving you - if that makes sense - I just don't want to lose the chance for you to watch Maddy grow up, and maybe even the chance for you to have kids of your own. Don't laugh! You may still find Mrs. Right."

She paused, sipped, thought.

"So now it sounds like I'm trying to persuade you to come back, which isn't my plan at all, but just please, please be careful. Listen to what your team tells you, they worry as much as I do. Call me when you can, and please, please respond to my email so I know you get them."

Her typing slowed, and stopped, and she stared at what she'd written, drinking the last of her soy, listening to the comfortable sounds of her home at night.

It was selfish, she realized, to try to tell him how scared she was. It would add a burden to him, it could distract him, make him equivocate, hinder his decisions, and she reached out and clicked Select All, and Delete.

"Mer! You have to come home for Easter, and bring everyone you can - I already have the sleeping arrangements planned. I could even persuade Caleb that tofu is against Ronon's religion, so don't be afraid of tofurky, though ham might be too far to go. Maybe we could go out, there's a great Greek restaurant near here. Madison is looking forward to meeting everyone, so see what you can do. Have to run, email soon!"

She clicked 'Send' and sat back. It would wait in the server, she knew, till the gate opened for the weekly report, and so it would be a good ten days till she heard back.

It was still better than four years.


End file.
